I Created A Monster
by doorist
Summary: Dramatic monologue from the pov of Mr Orton. randy doesn't do emotion, relationships, love... or so he thought. but he finally realises his arrogant, cheating lifestyle cost him the one person he tried his hardest not to care about, and now it's too late


**I CREATED A MONSTER**

**Rated:** M

**Summary:** Dramatic monologue from the 1st person pov of Mr Orton, as requested by rkoholic after her brilliant piece of Cody pov.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, it's all in my head…

3,427 words

I can still remember the first day, I hadn't seen him since he was a kid and I couldn't help but still think of him that way when our eyes met across the room. He looked so shocked to see me looking at him, let alone acknowledging him, but hey, I know I've got a reputation to uphold, but I've still got manners, contrary to popular belief.

But looking at him, there was nothing of the kid I once knew about him any more, that much I can readily admit. He was ready. He was all set, he had it all. And for some reason I seemed to make the decision then and there to quash it all out of him. I could see it in his eyes, the desire for approval, for acceptance… from me, from everyone.

And I remembered how I felt when I was in his shoes, standing there with my dad, knowing everyone was looking at me thinking the same thing, the same thing they were all now thinking about him. I could've made it so much easier for him, reassured him…

But I didn't.

I almost revelled in making life harder. I don't know why. It's not like I felt threatened by his presence or anything… well not in the way you might expect. But I definitely felt threatened by something, I just couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I felt something stir deep within myself that day.

Something attempting to rear its ugly head, and that's what I felt threatened by, I know that now. But at the time I just stamped it down and set about making his life a misery. I mean yeah, I took him 'under my wing' so to speak, it was expected after all, of those of our ilk. I certainly didn't do it out of the kindness of my heart, not at first, it was purely obligation. But when I realised how much he'd hang on my every word, watch me so intently when I was showing him something, ask me a million questions about anything and everything… he was just so enthusiastic and eager, not scared at all, not like I was when I was new, and I think that's what scared me the most. That and the fact I was beginning to feel…

…things.

I can remember the exact moment I _knew_. Knew about him that is. At that stage I was still blissfully unaware of, hang on, I don't really think blissfully is the right word to use in this context, but uh yeah, unaware definitely, of how he felt about…uh, me.

And I found _that_ out not long after… two and two always make four… you know? And I'm not proud of how I reacted. Looking back, I know now that it was out of relief… sounds weird huh? Well it was. Relief that it was me, that I was the chosen one… not the person I'd thought it was after all…

It was the night he introduced me to him… someone I completely misjudged… I knew all about him obviously, he talked about him non stop, and I knew how excited he was that he'd be joining the ranks at any time. And I knew they were close, I mean of course they were, they'd had all that working history after all, but I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I walked in on them that day.

As soon as I saw them together I just knew, _knew_ what they had. Don't get me wrong, they weren't even doing anything, just sitting real close together, talking, laughing, intimate, that real easy camaraderie that some people are lucky enough to encounter with others…

the sort that has always eluded me…

But it was the way he jumped up when he saw me, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, like an admission of guilt, like he feared he might have made me mad and that I wouldn't speak to him again. He was always like that, to a certain degree anyway, I can't really explain it, he was always worried about what I'd think, about my opinion… but this time, it was weird… he acted like I'd caught them fucking on the couch or something. The way he jumped up, his deep blue eyes wide and almost pleading, but then he sounded so proud as he introduced me… proud of who, I wasn't sure… and that's what got to me the most, because I wanted it to be me, yet I feared, with good reason, that it wasn't…

But they were both looking at me like they thought I might rip his head off, and to be honest I felt like I wanted to for a fraction of a second, until I questioned my own motives and found I had none... it was just the way he was looking at me… the way they were looking at each other…

I was so jealous! I realise that now… benefit of hindsight and all that…

Anyway I shook it off and I was positively charming, seething, but charming. I swear I was! And so were they, but I couldn't figure out who it was he'd been trying to impress, until later when I was taken aside, my 'rival' essentially conceding defeat, telling me I had no idea how much all my help was appreciated and that my influence really meant something, really had an impact on both of them, but that he knew it was time to let go, he'd taught him all he had and now it was my turn… I had no fucking clue what he was talking about at the time, I was stupid enough to think he was talking about wrestling… it wasn't until he started talking about childhood heroes and dreams come true that it all clicked into place.

That night was the first time I fucked him.

I'd never done it before, with a man, but it was so easy. He just let me. He showed me the ropes, so to speak, and hey, I'm a quick learner… My name falling from his lips the moment he came gave me the biggest rush I'd ever felt in my life, such a sense of power… until I spilt my own seed inside him and felt the biggest wave of shame wash over me that I've ever felt… pure and utter disgust with myself at what I had done, not the deed itself, at how I had treated him. Until this very day, I don't think anything can ever surpass that.

But every time I thought about it, which I have to admit was a lot, I almost recoiled from the memory in horror, because I didn't sleep with men! The very idea was absurd! I continued sleeping with countless women to prove it too, and I made sure he'd walk in on it as often as possible, to show him I was just leading him on, playing with him, toying with his emotions, because I could…

So why did I then keep sleeping with him for the next two years?

_**Because I loved him too**_…

No because I could. Because he let me. Because from then on, I knew I had a hold over him, and I milked it for all it was worth.

_**But I did**_…

I knew I could use it to my advantage, pretending to myself all the while that I was being the good guy, the good samaritan, doing my bit, giving the new guy what he wanted…

_**What I wanted too**_…

But in reality, what it actually amounted to was abuse. And he just took it all.

_**You know what they say, love is blind.**_

It's true. I've seen it with my own two eyes, in fact, I often pushed and pushed to see how far I could go before he'd crack, just for the sake of amusement, how sick is that…

I'd roll over as soon as I was done and pretend to be asleep, sometimes he hadn't even finished yet, not that it took much, he only had to look at me in those days… but I wouldn't even acknowledge his presence, just roll over and ignore him. Sometimes he'd pad softly into the bathroom and I'd hear him either finish the job or… I can't even say it, I hate myself for this… but sometimes I swear I heard him cry… yet every time he'd just wait until he thought I was asleep and then curl up behind me, holding me… telling me he loved me…

And no one will ever believe this but I lived for those moments.

I used to force myself to stay awake until they came, no matter how long he took feeling his arm around me, his gentle kiss between my shoulder blades, only then could I relax and drift off peacefully.

No one else has ever held me like that.

I never told him how much it meant to me. And now I'll never get the chance, because the time I finally rolled over to do it, he wasn't there. He got up and went straight to the other bed without even looking at me… I totally deserved it. I know that. But it didn't make it hurt any less. The next night? The next night he didn't even come back to the room…

But anyway, no use dwelling on that, the point is, until then, he was relentless in his unwavering devotion. And that got to me, it really did, that he still wanted me, needed me, despite everything, that he could see through the façade, the flimsy charade… But unbeknownst to him, he actually managed to crack the surface, believe me I kept that well hidden… and piece by piece, the parts of myself I'd so desperately tried to repress, to hide from, they were escaping, slowly but surely, he was bringing them out of me, he was making me whole again… Again? Had I ever been whole to begin with? I don't think so, but that's besides the point.

He was making me be… me.

The real me, not the one I kept on constant display for the sake of… who exactly? I don't know… but despite everything, I still strived to keep it under lock and key, battering the little pieces of myself back down that attempted to rise to the surface every time I saw him, a smile here, a laugh there, that wasn't me, I refused to let it be… replacing it with a sneer, a snide comment, a raised eyebrow, anything to conceal the fact that there might be real human feelings hiding in there under all the bullshit… but eventually, my resolve proved to be too strong for both of us, even he was worn down to the point where I guess he just figured he'd been wrong about me the whole time.

I don't know if I can even pinpoint exactly when it started… or maybe I can, maybe I know exactly when and I just don't want to admit it... can't bring myself to deal with it, accept the guilt… Because I know it's all my fault, deep down, I know I'm the direct cause.

I created a monster.

It's funny isn't it, how you can be so blind to things… things that are right there in front of you, practically screaming for your attention, but you find it so easy to ignore, happily going along, leading your blinkered existence, purposely turning a blind eye… and then one day it just hits you.

Like, I just suddenly realised, woke up, everything was so clear! My eyes had been opened, I wondered how I'd never seen it before. And it was amazing! I just wanted to grab the bull by the horns and run with it, embrace the light… but he wasn't there. I rolled over, I was so happy, almost floating, I wanted to tell him, so desperately, to pull him close, to hold on and never let go…

But he was gone.

Or to be more precise, he hadn't even come back. Because by then it was too late, the chance had long since been lost, I'd just never noticed, it had already slipped through my grasp, my fingers desperately attempting to clutch at straws as they disintegrated before my very eyes, there's no point in even trying anymore. Not really.

Was there ever?

But that's what makes it even worse, because there was, there was a point, once. It was all there for the taking, literally offered to me on a plate, he gave me so many chances, but I was too blind to see it… too stupid… too stubborn, and for so long! So fucking long! How could I be so oblivious?! Okay, maybe I wasn't entirely oblivious, maybe I just _wanted_ to be, _pretended_ to be, I think a better term for it would be, in denial.

In total fucking denial.

Sometimes life is so unfair. It took me all that time to realise what I had, but by the time I did, I'd already lost it, because I hadn't even realised how close to losing it I already was, so did absolutely nothing to stop it.

I am fully aware I only have myself to blame, I'd been dangling the carrot in front of the horse for so long, I got so used it, the constant appeal for even the slightest bit of my attention, the pure and utter joy when it was given, that I just expected it to always be there, _him_ to always be there… loyally following me like a devoted fan.

And it _was_ like that, for _ages_ it was like that, it was my own nonchalance, my own total lack of respect that pushed it away…

…my own fear.

Because that's what this is really all about. I was too fucking scared. I can see that now… I can even admit it. That's a big step, for someone like me.

Well… for me.

It's not in my vocabulary, admitting I'm scared, admitting I'm wrong… but I was, I still am.

I was so scared I couldn't even bring myself to look twice in a direction not already paved out for me… I was only ever about the destiny, so why did I ignore it? Why did I throw it all away? Because I was too scared to look my true destiny in the face and accept it for what it really was, not what I expected it to be. I pushed it away, ignored it, and by the time I came to my senses…

so had he.

He'd moved on.

And rightly so. I can hardly blame him. He'd waited on me forever, been so patient, so loyal. I took him for granted, I abused his innocence, his loyalty, his trust, I didn't deserve it in the first place, not the way I treated him. I treated him like fucking shit. I knew it, he knew it, yet still he kept coming back, still he kept loving me. Why? I didn't get it, I didn't understand. I used to wonder what the hell was wrong with him… I should have been asking the same question of myself…

I didn't think I wanted it, his devotion, not at first. But now I know that I did, I still do, desperately, I know that I need it, that I crave it, that I miss it, and that I want to return it, that I _do_ return it, I do, I really do…

But it's too late, it's gone, he's gone. What the hell is wrong with me? I didn't even try to stop him, it'd only fall on deaf ears, he wouldn't believe me anyway, and why should he? He'd stare at me, incredulous, then laugh in my face, just like I did to him so many times when he dared to show any kind of human feeling in my presence.

Fuck.

I fucked up so bad. I know it, and I can't fix it. That's the worst of it, there's nothing left to do apart from deal, take it like a man, grow up and face the consequences of my actions, just like I told him so many times. And he finally did. He's only gone and done it…

and left me a drivelling mess in his wake.

I mean going to sleep without him, that's one thing, that was bad enough, knowing he just got up and left like that... And then waking up without him there, realising he hadn't come back the night before, that hurt me more than I ever realised something I'd done so many times myself ever would, ever could, something I'd considered so unimportant, so menial… but it was a taste of my own medicine so who am I to even dare complain?

But walking in the next day and finding him, finding _them_, on our bed like that… _our bed_, that's laughable in itself, I'd given up the right to call any bed we shared 'ours' right from the get go… but I can't deny how much it devastated me, I feel completely and utterly worthless, I'm destroyed.

He has no idea I feel like this. It's how I must've left him feeling so many fucking times. How could I have done that to him? Time and time again? He was always so sweet, so innocent, I essentially beat all the goodness out of him and replaced it with, well… me.

He's acting just like me.

Well, he think he is, but he couldn't be further from the truth. But I've driven him to it. He's acting the way he thinks I am, the way I've always been when he was around, the carefully cultivated way I thought it was best to be… but I was wrong.

It's not me. Not any more. And I cringe at the thought that it actually was, and that he ended up believing it. The act became the reality.

It's just the me I wanted people to see, because I was too gutless to be myself, to show my real face in public. And it took him to show me that it didn't have to be that way, how could he see it but I couldn't? He was always so adamant about that, that there was more to me than meets the eye, that there's something else underneath the mask, underneath the steely exterior… but I always did my best to prove him wrong, to show him that what you see is what you get, that this was me, like it or lump it.

He asked me once what I was hiding from…

I didn't have the guts to admit that it was me. I don't think I even knew. Not then. He always had the courage to be himself, he was man enough to admit it. And to think that would've made me laugh not so long ago… him being man enough, it would've seriously, I would've laughed, right in his face too. And you know what, the funny thing is, I wouldn't even have meant it, I would've done it because it's what's expected of me.

And now he's become exactly what was expected of him, a perfect little mini me. Breaking hearts left right and centre, including mine. Especially mine. But he has no idea about that. And of course I'll never tell him. Like I said before, he'd never believe me anyway.

And you know what the irony of it all is? The exact moment I realised the truth, was the exact moment he did too. Only our truths had changed. He no longer cared. The moment I gave in, he gave up. I could see it in his eyes. It was too little too late. But still I didn't say anything, I was too blown away, I was still reeling in the revelation, I let him go without saying a damn word.

I've created a monster. In my own image. And I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life, the one that got away, and I could've saved him. But I didn't, and now it's too late, all because I'm too gutless to tell him how I feel. I used to tell him to grow up, to be a man, face the consequences of his actions… maybe it's about time I listened to my own advice for a change…


End file.
